


Cigarettes and Poetry

by Rigel (vegalocity)



Category: Heart no Kuni no Alice | Alice in the Country of Hearts
Genre: F/M, First Time, asthma really sucked in the victorian era, pseudo time traveller character, researched for historical accuracy, two saps being saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegalocity/pseuds/Rigel
Summary: Time moves on





	Cigarettes and Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> Only my friends and I understand and enjoy this ship but I don't care, this is for my friends anyway.

There were a couple of comforts about this place, the constellations being about the same as back home, the inconsistent time periods making it so she could sleep when it was light out and not worry about something sneaking up on her in the dark, the bright, excited eyes (or lack thereof) of the children as she told them stories she'd known by heart since childhood, stories they'd never heard.

Though by far, what she loved the most was the rain. It didn't come as often as she'd like it to, sure; but it would come around every so often. And when it did the air would stay warm, the water would fall as cold needles against her skin, but she would barely feel it.

Anita's pale skin rose in response to the cold water, shivers crawling pleasantly up her spine and goosebumps running up and down her arms. She'd been out in the rain practically since it had started; She'd convinced a bunch of the maids of the castle to come and get her if it started while she was still inside. She wasn't sure what they'd expected whenever they'd follow said instructions and come to get her, but she was sure it probably wasn't to grab her jacket from the chair it would rest on, pulling the clip from her hair and racing outside. Everything dropped in order to simply sit in the rain for hours.

She was still working at the pharmacy of course, dating the Prime Minister was in no way an invitation to getting a free ride, at least in her eyes it wasn't. The schedule of work was probably what was keeping her alive; she knew herself enough to know she was probably still very depressed—As dragged down as she's always been. But the rain was a nice outlit for her, a feeling, a smell, a temperature, a sound. Something that had always washed away her stresses back home, and here? Well here it helped her feel like a human being again. She'd chosen to stay, but unlike the others who were slowly choosing the same, her heart remained where it was. Possibly due to her refusal to accept the world as it was, pushing for a better future was a neverending job. But either way she remained from her own dimension, her heart still beat with a thumping noise, and her gray eyes remained visible to all who looked.

Somehow she felt it, sometime down the road, the door will open to return home once again, and when that day came, she'd have to take it.

That would be the day she died.

But that day had not come yet, and she needed to be alive to meet it when the day did come.

And in order to do that, she had to remind herself she was human every so often, Enter: the rain.

After what felt like barely minutes she saw the light behind the clouds, going from the pale rainclouds of a midday shower, to the barely luminescent glow of a sunset downpour. She hoped this one would hold, she loved the way the clouds glowed when it rained at sunset. The world darkened and the clouds became a deep indigo, but the horizon to the west ignited in a fierce fire. The light reflected onto the water and made the nearby parts of the clouds turn a deep red.

Yeah, Sunset rain was possibly the most beautiful time for rain.

For all the flaws that it was steadily trying to fix, this world was barely rolling its way through the the industrial revolution. The sky was pure and untainted, when the sun set it was a pure orange, not the red she'd grown up looking into.

But all the same the water pounded down, not too light that it was barely satisfying, but not so hard it would bring pain with it. She closed her eyes and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin in the space between.

Her eyes never strayed from the horizon, brown hair steadily soaking and simple clothes clinging to her form. Usually when she got like this, one of two things would happen, she'd eventually snap out of her self imposed trance and get up to leave before she came down with something, or someone would find her. But like always when it rained, she didn't openly consider this until it would inevitably happen.

For a timeless eon she sat there, thoughts for once not running a mile a minute, simply focused on the sky, and the rain that fell from it. Mind and body consumed in one natural phenomenon with a determination she couldn't quite place while active.

Her thoughts and lackthereof were derailed at the sudden lack of rain over her head. All around her the rain kept pouring down, but no longer on her. She looked up and sure enough there was a red umbrella above her, held by a pleasantly bemused Peter.

“Hey.” She stated simply, and he huffed out a small laugh. He'd caught her out here possibly the least, but not out of any lack of noticing, simply because he wasn't often wandering around when it was raining. Maids and guards tended to find her first, or Patricia; but he was well aware of her strange habit. He'd long since grown used to her in some of Tricia's clothes but barefoot, scrubbing her long hair dry with a towel, but he never seemed to let go of the amusement that arose whenever he found her sitting in the open, soaked to the core.

“Why must you do this?” he crouched down to be closer to her eye level, still holding the umbrella over both of their heads, and clearly not interested in sitting down in the wet himself, but small victories. She'd get him out here with her one day. “You must be crawling with bacteria and you're going to catch something.”

“Hey!” She interjected “Rainwater barely has anything in it, its pH is almost exactly 7, The only stuff that gets in it is toxins in the air, stuff we breathe in. And I'm not gonna get sick.” She rolled her eyes, playful smirk hopefully enough to prove her joking tone. “I've been loitering in the rain since I was a child. In winter. My immune system is a cast iron wall, I only get sick once a year.”

He looked upwards for a moment, from what Anita had gathered so far, that was most likely the 'questioning life choices' face. Peter knew he wasn't the easiest to read when he wasn't either ecstatically happy or ready to shoot someone, and he'd been trying to be more expressive lately. Something she could appreciate, both for the public image he was forced to keep up and for the fact that it made keeping proper communication all the easier.

“Are you going to insist I try staying out here with you now?” Anita said nothing, simply scooted over so she'd be back under the rain, patting the spot on the stone she'd just cleared.

“You don't have to ditch the umbrella, you don't have to sit on the ground, I just think you'd like it!” She responded. And she really did think so, and while she knew Peter had problems with saying no to anyone he was involved with, she generally tried not to abuse that knowledge unless she really was trying for something she thought he'd end up liking.

He looked back out into the distance, before sighing and shifting his grip on his umbrella, small smile on his face. “For you then, Aneetah!” He didn't fully sit down, and she didn't expect him to, but he did lean his umbrella a little against his shoulder and relax his stance.

But alas, Wonderland weather, just like Wonderland time, was unpredictable. Just as she had leaned back onto her hands to let the rain wash over her again, now with company, did it end.

“Well shit...” she huffed, more than a little put out. Sunset had ended with the rain it seemed, for when the clouds parted it revealed a late night sky, skipping right over twilight and early night. Jupiter twinkled happily at her from the center of the sky, and the moon lit the clouds around it in a white glow.

At the very least the comedic timing of the event had a proper reaction, Peter lowered the umbrella to rest on the ground with his shoulders positively shaking with concealed laughter. She really liked the look on his face whenever he did that, the way his cheeks would turn red, and his lips would pinch closed around a crooked smile. Anita's grin turned a bit wry, if there was one thing that was cuter though...

She darted out and prodded his side with two fingers, The shrill yelp that pierced through the air as her boyfriend lost his balance and went crashing onto the wet ground was possibly the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard.

She curled inward as she laughed, hair swinging forward with her motion and sticking to her cheeks. The air around the castle was quickly starting to cool to go along with the late night surroundings, and that meant the water was cooling with it, Peter just got a side of water far colder than expected.

She cracked her eyes open around her near violent giggles to see him propping himself up on his hands, legs sprawled out awkwardly and sitting in what was definitely a puddle, staring at her speechless, Maybe it was bunny biology acting up and she'd finally gotten him into that 'surprised freeze' she'd heard so much about. Maybe that was a real perk about dating a rabbit person.

“Sorry... I ah... I couldn't resist...” she bit out around laughter. There were a couple of things she expected to happen from there, But none of them were worth talking about because none of them ended up happening.

What did happen however was Peter taking her compromised position and twisting it to his advantage, before she could react beyond a small squeal he'd pounced onto her, arms wrapped around her shoulders and the dry side of his face pressed against her wet hair.

“At least have the decency to make the prank symmetrical!” he pouted, just a trace of indignant huffyness in his voice. The small tremble in his voice showing he at least did see the comedy in the prank. Or maybe that he was happy she'd laughed so hard, Peter's enjoyment in his partner's enjoyment was something she didn't understand when it was directed at Alice and she didn't understand it now, but she wasn't about to complain.

“Everyone's a critic.” she bit back, but all the same relaxed into his grip; she'd been out for a bit so her skin had grown used to the temperature, but Peter hadn't been out for near as long—he was still rather warm, and the night air was perfectly juxtaposed with his warm body. The faintest ticking echoed in her ears, but whether that was the clock he wore on his hip or the clock in his chest was something she couldn't quite tell.

One of his hands drifted from her shoulder to her chest, and if it were anyone else she would have slapped them for copping a feel, but he knew better than to do such a thing to her. He might be a master marksmen and a fair swordfighter if need be, but she was better at fist fights, no, what he was doing was basically what she was, his hand was over her collarbone, not anywhere gross; He was feeling her pulse.

She sighed contently and leaned further into his arms, Just enjoying the silence. The trees loomed in the distance, the darkness of the night blackening them to pitch; they could be hiding anything in their dark embrace. But for once, the sight didn't send a spike of cold terror through her gut—Because her boyfriend's arms were warm and strong around her, and he was a protective vaguely psychopathic gunsman. She was safe.

Gently, she lifted her hands to take Peter's hand, the one over her heart, and rolled back his sleeve a bit. Just to show a bit of pale skin beyond his glove.

“Anita?”

She answered by pressing her lips to the underside of his wrist. The arm still wrapped around her shoulders tightened, Peter letting out a short but pleased hum.

“Ahhhh, You're such a romantic Aneetah!” he chirped, She felt something warm press against the back of her neck, parsing it's way through her slowly drying hair. It took her a second to realize he was kissing the back of her neck. She chuckled quietly, more at the comment then the action.

“Says the rabbit who spouts verse at the littlest prompting,” she hummed, gently pulling away from Peter so she could stand. “Come on, you're gonna catch something if you don't dry off.” It was hard to tell in the darkness but she could hear Peter grumble a bit at the distance before following her lead.

“Very true my love, the last thing either of us need is to be bedridden and seeping germs everywhere!” he still offered her his arm and together the both of them headed back inside the castle.

Anita's entire outfit was wet so that meant she needed to borrow some of the spare clothes that were almost always packed into any number of rooms, including the one she'd unofficially claimed when she overshot her time here and needed a place to nap, or sit quietly because everything was too loud and she was overloading.

The towel that was left on the bed was warm, like it had been held over a heater seconds before she'd reached the room. At least the rest of the room had been warm too, as had Peter even before that, else she might have made several embarrassing noises at the press of the towel to her head.

The nightgown she'd selected from the stuffed dresser was a long white nightgown, it was kind of like her pajama shirt back home in the way that draping it across her broad shoulders generally meant it fell in every unflattering angle possible; but it was either the long proper nightgown or one of the blood red short dresses that honestly looked more like lingerie than something to sleep in.

After she was changed she pulled the curtains in the room open, the pale moon above blinking down at her. The window was enormous. It seemed as though she weren't the only person here who absolutely loved staring up at the night sky. She could even see out the window for the most part when she was laying down and looking up.

Thankfully the room she'd claimed as her own faced one of the inner courtyards, the dark forest was nowhere near her line of sight, only the courtyard, the garden, and the nightsky beyond the castle wall.

Though it was hard to see much of anything with the lights inside the room lit as they were. She grumbled to herself and shuffled around the room again, this time turning off a number of lamps until the only light coming from her room was the lantern at her bedside. And sure enough, the watery moonlight filled the room with its pale glow.

She supposed if there was much of anything to be thankful for about her cowardly decision it was the fact that light pollution wasn't much of a thing. Pretty much the entire castle remained lit, sure, but other than it and Hatter Mansion there simply weren't enough big places with powerful enough lights to cause any damage to the night sky.

And oh, how the world lit up when the sun went down. To think, no matter what bubble dimension theories she could come up with, they were still on a rock somewhere in the universe, spinning at breakneck speeds, hurtling through an unending void.

A knock on the door quickly broke up her existential self comforting, prompting her to glance at herself in the mirror on the dresser—She'd pulled a brush through her hair, so despite it valiantly trying to retain its usual fluffy nature it was for the most part in order—and rush for the door.

“'Sup dude?”

She didn't know what it was about dressing even remotely girly that made her revert into her 'tough girl from NorCal' persona, but she always did.

Peter, for his credit, looked like nothing had happened, like he'd simply snapped his fingers and dried off—and for all she knew about how these people could manipulate their time, he could have—and was simply wondering what was keeping her from heading over to his room.

And if the way his pale cheeks had quickly turned red meant anything, he just found out. Now, she didn't know much about cultural practice from anytime before the 1950's or so, but she was pretty sure in about this era, girls didn't run around in their pajamas when the majority of the household was awake.

After a moment where there was nothing but silence, as her amusement and his shock faded a bit, her dweeb boyfriend finally spoke.

“I've never seen you in sleepwear from the castle.” He stated, cheeks still just a bit pink, if anything it went lovely with the smile curling onto his lips. “It suits you.” Now it was her turn to blush a bit, now she was never much of a blusher yeah, but her neck did feel a bit warmer when she folded her arms and jerked her head to the side a bit.

“You coming in or what?” Peter, thankfully, didn't need to be invited twice, the second she stepped aside he made his way in.

“Why did you turn off your lights?” He asked, moving slowly as to not bump into anything. It was funny, how different he acted around her compared to how he used to act around Alice.

Maybe that was her influence, but she was pretty sure it was just the fact that his affair with Alice was kind of a clusterfuck. A whirlwind of a romance which, if he'd been telling her the truth all that time ago, was his first romance entirely. It made sense in that case, the first love was always a bit of a clusterfuck. Everything's new so it's really easy to get manic.

She remembered her first romance and wow.... she really did hate 13 year old her. So she could understand.

She strolled over to the bed and sat on the side closest to her, patting a spot beside her for Peter to sit.

“You know what I love best about your world?”

“Hm?” And now he was beside her, With how immaculate his outfit looked, even in the dim glow of the moon, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe instead of speeding up the drying process he didn't just have dozens of pink shirts and red plaid blazers.

“How dark the world gets when the night cycles come.” Maybe even with the trauma and the Nyctohylophobia, she was still a bit of a creep; because holy hell did that sound ominous when it came out of her mouth.

“Does it not get dark during the night cycles in your word?” He didn't seem too affected by her spookyness at least. Maybe it was the nightgown.

“It does, but not where I'm from. There are so many lights that go on to ensure people can see. And that's good sure, it decreased the amount of crime, but the light pollution makes it impossible to see more than a couple of stars.”

“Ahhh.” He hummed in response, slowly, almost tentatively wrapping an arm around her shoulders. There was an odd sort of hesitance in his voice then, like he was carefully thinking his words over. “I know how much you love the stars. That must have been frustrating.”

She hummed and leaned against him, the slightest smile on her face. The society of wonderland mixed with his own problems had made Peter quite the bitter person when she'd first met him. He'd started trying with Alice, She had never taken his shit and he'd tried to be better. And now that he was with her, Anita could see the difference between the man who held her now compared to the man who'd once criticized her fascination with this place for no real reason.

“Yeah, but that just makes me appreciate what's here.” She could feel the gloomy thoughts at the edge of her mind, wanting deeply to compare her old doomed world to Wonderland, but what was the point in ruminating on that while she had someone in the room with her?

“I see...perhaps your world lacked as many stars in the sky because their light was lended to your eyes.”

Goddammit. How on god's green earth was this the same person who sounded like it was pulling teeth to thank her for treating his wounds back in the forest?

“Don't do that. Please don't get all poetic on me.” she felt him shift a little underneath her, his nose pressed right above her ear.

“Hm? Why ever not, My constellation freckled beauty? You deserve to know your worth.” Why was he like this? Her face felt so hot right now, there was no way he didn't know she was red as a tomato in the dark room.

“Because I'm in pajamas, it's dark, we're cuddling on my bed, and I'm like ninety-eight percent sure your victorian sensibilities might kill you the second you realize what all of that can imply.” She was well aware of course, that despite the technology and the aesthetic, there wasn't as much Victorian era structure in Wonderland. But she was allowed to be a bit facetious.

Peter chuckled and she could feel the vibration against her shoulder and directly in her ear. And well.... that didn't make her cheeks feel like returning to their normal color anytime soon.

“I'd like to think myself a Gentleman Anita, but I have a tendency to fall rather short on that regard.” His voice wasn't necessarily raspy or raw, but there was a roughness that she _knew_ he just used for the sake of the drama. In a way though, it worked. A small shudder crawled its way up her spine, reminding her very intimately of just how sensitive her skin could get after rain.

But Anita Hazel Bishop was not someone to be outclassed.

“Oh, really?” She shifted against him, just so she was facing him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and in the watery moonlight, she'd like to think he looked lovely. Snow white hair turned a blue-ish silver and red eyes nearly glowing against the dark. She tilted her head, hoping that her hair fell _just so_ so that her neck would be exposed. Hoping beyond all hope that she actually looked alluring instead of as silly as she felt. “Just how ungentlemanly do you think I could get you before the night ends?”

His eyes darted to her exposed neck then, and she counted that a success. Though it was possible he was just looking at the scarring along the base of her neck. She hoped not though; it would be really embarrassing to be trying to be sexy but the only thing your boyfriend could focus on was the remnants of tortures you'd experienced not so long ago.

“Oh Anita...” he hummed, small crooked smirk lighting on his face. He reached for her, and Anita took a deep breath, waiting, only to feel his gloved hand reach up to tuck a stray tuft of hair behind her ear. “Is that a challenge, my love?”

She raised her hand to meet his, and slowly peeled off his glove.

“You bet it is, alfalfa huffer.” She pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm.

It was hard to tell in the light, but she thought he might be blushing, with how his eyes kept darting from her to his hand. She leaned her head into his hand, unlike her own hands his were soft. If that germaphobe nature of his brought anything, it brought soft skin unburdened by callouses.

Slowly, almost regretfully, he started to pull his hand back, she made sure the tips of her fingers dragged against the back of his hand, the tough skin on the pads of her fingers barely scratching against him.

The air seemed warmer now, maybe that was the heater for the room finally kicking in, but she felt like it was more the mood. A challenge had been issued, one that was probably gonna end in the same thing no matter what. One result was proving her seduction prowess and the other proving Peter's self control. Both things that neither of them usually boasted, so in a way it really was a challenge for the both of them.

“Oh Peter...” she hummed, voice dropping as low as she could without it sounding unnatural. Smooth, silky, That's how people describe sexy voices in books and stuff, right? “I'm going to enjoy this.”

He grinned a bit at her then, like he could see the numbers zipping behind her eyes. “Are you?” he hummed, purposefully leaning back, hands propped up behind him. “Because I can assure you, I can be quite restrained when I so choose.”

“Oh yeah?” She leaned forward, one hand splaying on the mattress, and the other gripping his knee. Corduroy as a texture was generally something she avoided, but she'd handle it. She picked up her legs and slid them beneath herself as she leaned in. “How many people you think would laugh in my face if I told them you said that?”

She lifted the hand leaned against the bed, tugging the strings keeping her nightgown tight to her shoulders loose. She'd never seen herself as particularly attractive, especially compared to the majority of the women she'd met here—both fellow outsiders and residents—so honestly? She never quite got just what Peter saw so lovely about her, but the way his eyes raked over her now bare shoulders...

Made it almost feel like there was something worth looking at beyond the ugly scars.

Her newly freed hand traveled up his torso, making sure the tips of her fingers trailed against his chest as she slowly tugged his tie from its spot within his blazer.

“Just because...” He paused as she undid his tie “Just because I choose not to be restrained for the most part does not mean...” She undid the top button of his shirt “that I can't. Others opinions mean nothing in this situation.” She grinned a bit, eyes narrowing.

Upping the ante it is.

“I see... but maybe you forgot something,” she purred, letting go of his knee to rest her hand on his shoulder instead, one of her legs sliding out from under her to link around his. “I do my research before I start experimenting.”

She almost wished she'd left the lights on in the room, because if his dumbfounded expression meant anything, it meant he must be as red as a goddamn firecracker.

“Oh?” She could see his hands tighten into fists from her periphery, crumpling up the bedsheets in his deathgrip.

“Yeah, my upbringing was a lot more... liberal than you might expect.” his eyes darted away from her and Anita's smile grew.

She leaned into the leg tangled with Peter's, her hands slowly beginning to comb through his hair. The snow white tresses were as soft and neatly kept as she could have expected from him, She practically felt the shiver that climbed up his spine as her fingers brushed the bases of his ears. His eyes reflexively squeezed shut, but he nodded into her hands slightly. Slowly, his ears lowered to response, easily in her grasp if she reached for them.

Honestly, he should have known better than to challenge her on something so tenuous as his composure, but alas, pride.

She curved her back upward, looming over his newly exposed neck.

“I have read scores of erotica, just for this moment Peter.” she breathed, There was a noise that came out of him, and while she was sure he'd deny it immediately after their … events... ended, she knew it was a squeak.

“Don't take it too hard” She grabbed the ear closest to her, fast enough that he couldn't pull away, but making sure she wasn't brash enough to hurt him. “You never stood a chance.” She brought his ear to her mouth and kissed the pink inner skin.

He grabbed her wrist with a hand and hastily pressed his mouth against hers.

She chuckled into the kiss, but it seemed like Peter didn't really care about the results of the bet, and really, she didn't either.

The results would have been the same either way.

She released his ear and slid her free hand into his hair, it was soft, practically like silk between her fingers.

The air felt electrified, every shift and movement sent shudders up her spine, anticipation like latent static under her skin, releasing with the littlest of motions and bringing goosebumps back up her arms. Anita pulled away a bit, and pointedly ignored Peter's small mumble of discontent as she leaned into his neck, she still hadn't gotten the majority of his shirt off, but she worked at what was exposed to her. She kissed lightly right beneath his jaw, peppering as much pale skin as she could reach, burrowing her nose into the pink fabric of his shirt to reach the base of his neck. She hummed at the feeling, an airy soap smell filled her nose, something she was silently sure he always carried on him.

“You're warm” she mumbled against his neck. He shuddered beneath her and she chuckled in response, his grip on her wrist lessened, but his other hand wrapped around the small of her back, protective, safe.

“So are you.” He murmured, the rumble of his words vibrating against her.

Slowly, as delicately as she could, button by button she began to undo his blazer, when the last button came undone he helped and shrugged off his blazer and tie, for a moment Anita thought he was going to stop to fold his clothes properly, but was more than a little pleasantly surprised when he just carefully set them on the foot of the bed. Reluctant as he seemed to pull away, his hands didn't return to her waist right away. He'd pulled off his other glove, and it seemed like her legs were his current fascination.

His touch was soft, almost reverent, as he dragged his fingertips across the side of her thighs, lingering on any scars that came his way and making her stomach do weird, self conscious flips.

“You uh... you have... _equipment_ on you, right?” She drew back to look at him, and Peter, unfortunately, looked pretty lost.

“Uhm...”

“You know, Lubrication? Condoms? Peter this is our first time together and it's my first time at all, If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right.”

To his credit he didn't shrink away from the nitty gritty.

“Oh that kind of supplies! I thought you meant like... Kink stuff.” She was just about to ask—just a mote incredulously—why she would be asking about kink stuff during their first time together, but he was already shifting the two of them, carefully laying her down onto the bed and kissing her lightly. “Just one moment then, My love.” and then darted to the door.

The room felt significantly colder, but all the same Anita took the moments of quiet to gather her thoughts.

This was happening.

Somehow, someway, this was happening. Peter White, the Psychopathic Prime Minister himself, thought she was attractive enough for this to be happening.

He wasn't shying away from her scars like she thought he would, if he thought they were as ugly as she did he wasn't showing it.

Christ, how was this her life now? Her shadows are always behind her, but there are days where she feels so far away from the scared girl with a camera that started this journey. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

She decided to take off her nightshirt—leaning against the headboard and staring out the window in her underwear, god she felt like a character from a pulpy romance novel. The gnarled scars that littered her skin were obvious, even in the dim light, but for once she told the horrible shame goblin in her brain to shut the fuck up.

Because tonight she was gonna get laid by someone who didn't care about her scars just so long as he knew they were thoroughly cleaned before they healed (they were)

When the door opened again she turned carefully, her hair thankfully did not smack her in her face and instead settled behind her.

“Okay everything's in order. I'm sorry for the wait my love, if I'd known this was the direction the night was headed I'd have prepared far more..” Peter trailed off, for a moment he was frozen in the doorway, the light from the hallway against her eyes made seeing him as more than an amorphous dark blob basically impossible.

“Uhm... Peter? Can you close the door please? I'm kinda going blind here...” he seemed to jolt into action at that, quickly coming back into the room in full and shutting the door behind him. “Chill out, if you get too stiff you're gonna end up rushing things and then nobody's gonna enjoy themselves.”

It wasn't exactly easy to make out his expression—she was still blinking the light spots out of her eyes—but he was nervous. She could tell in how he lingered in front of the bed, not sitting down, not doing much of anything.

“Sorry” He said, finally deciding to sit in the same space he was in before as he toed out of his shoes. “I just... You look so beautiful against the night sky like that, I was taken aback. Are you quite sure you aren't a descendant of some sort of sky goddess?”

The laugh came out in a surprised burst, even she didn't expect it until it was past her lips. Hopefully he didn't take too much offense.

“You don't need to keep up the flattery, we're already gonna bang.”

“Bang?”

“Slang from my world it... well I guess you can assume what it means.” he nodded stiffly, and well, she was more than done with taking so long. She leaned back onto the headboard of the bed, her head just barely resting on the glass. “Get over here champ, let's get started while there's still some night in the sky.”

Peter didn't need to be told twice.

This time it was his face buried into her shoulder, but instead of enjoying the warmth as she did, he trailed kisses and tiny bite marks down her neck and shoulder, small red patches left behind from every assault.

He reached a spot just between her neck and her shoulder and she stifled a laugh, she'd thought she'd grown out of a ticklish neck, but that didn't seem to be the case. He hummed and lingered there longer, taking the time to spread his hands across her body. She could feel one still raking up and down her thigh, the other started on her stomach, palm down over her navel, and from there wandered around her torso, finding that spot between her stomach and her hip bone that twitched under any touch and made her giggle.

He hummed against her neck and she felt his nails scratch at that spot, there was only a small bit of pain in that, before a groan made its way from her throat. She was starting to feel restless, she needed to do something here...

Steadily she began to unbutton Peter's shirt, his pale skin revealed more with every undone button, she felt him twitch under her hands as she dragged her fingertips over his chest.

“Goddamn...” she huffed, more than a little appreciative. She always knew Peter had to be at least decently in shape from all the stunts he'd pulled, but damn. The lithe muscle beneath her touch was far more impressive than she'd expected. There was the thinnest bit of softness along his stomach of course, this wasn't exactly television. And Anita could only think of just how comfy that'll end up being when everything's over.

She felt him chuckle and once the shirt was only hanging on by his elbows, Peter helpfully shrugged it the rest of the way off, tossing it vaguely in the direction of where the rest of his clothes had gone.

She yelped when she felt his mouth land on her collarbone, right at the edge of one of her more prominent scars. The hypersensitive skin in the area jolting in a weird mix of pleasure and pain.

“Hey, careful. If I end up bleeding from any scars by the end of this I'm giving you one.” Peter chuckled and she could feel it in her sternum, goosebumps returning to her skin from the sensation. Damn.

“Of course.” The hand that had been otherwise exploring her torso finally made its way to the edge of her bra. Anita's head fell back to hit the glass again, and as she felt his fingers skid along the edge of her bra, tickling her ribs and heading to the clasp at the back, she felt his mouth leave her. She creaked an eye open in curioscity;

The moonlight that came through the window practically bounced against him entirely, his pale skin and white hair were near glowing in the darkness. He looked almost like a ghost. And for some reason, he was just... staring at her.

She decided to head him off and took her hands off his chest to undo her bra, tossing the worn down garment aside, still trying to parse out his expression.

“You okay?”

He didn't answer her, but he leaned in and kissed her, barely a peck, and leaned his forehead against hers.

“My moon and my stars.” He kissed over one of her eyelids, then the other

“Your beauty is rivaled only by your mind” the center of her neck

“Compassion as foreign as it is familiar” between her breasts

“Your freckles constellations, perfectly aligned.” her navel

She threaded her fingers into his hair again, his chest now out of her reach; her hands might have been shaking a little, she wasn't quite sure.

“Peter...”

He reached the space between her hipbone and her stomach, this time on the other side of where he'd scratched at her.

She yelped when his tongue ran across the sensitive patch of skin.

“Anita, you challenge me in ways I never thought possible. But no matter what arguments you give, one thing remains the same.” he leaned up to kiss her stomach again, this time at the very center of one of her scars.

She had to take a breath just to keep her voice from trembling. “And what are you too stubborn to admit defeat on?” he smiled then, maneuvering himself to wrap his arms around her lower back, head resting on her stomach.

“I love you.” Of course. She huffed out a light chuckle, removing her hands from Peter's hair and resting them on either side of the both of them.

“Sap.”

“Only for you Aneetah” He chirped. For a long moment he merely lay there, nuzzling into the space between her breasts and her stomach, before he shifted positions and Anita felt something press against her shin.

Only Peter...

“Okay babe, I know you have that whole thing with nuzzling” She gently grabbed Peter's shoulders and pried him away from her. “But seems to me you're just as _willing_ as I am to not stop here.” His lips flattened and Anita instinctively knew he was blushing at being called out like that.

She reached down to take his hands in her own, smiling crookedly when his expression dropped into surprise. Okay, she could do this, just had to...

She lunged forward, using her position against the window to push Peter back, until his back hit the bed and she was straddling his hips.

“Come on, I haven't been researching shit like this since I was fifteen just to do nothing when it finally happens.” He blinked up at her in surprise. She kissed him gently before pressing her waist onto his, grinding their hips together.

He gasped, whether in shock or pleasure she wasn't sure, his back arched under her and she sat up straight again, half sitting on Peter's thighs, half on her knees, she released his hands and began to trail them down his chest.

“Speaking of which, this is probably gonna get messy, so if you can't handle it don't feel the least bit guilty to say so, okay?”

“Alright, but I believe I'll be fine. I want to do this Anita, mess can be cleaned up.” She huffed in surprise.

“That's the most Zen thing I've ever heard you say...” She leaned in before he could respond to bite down onto the crook of his neck. Carefully now. She ran her hands up and down his chest, soft skin feeling almost alien against her calloused fingers. Her mouth sucking down a pink mark or two along his neck, moving steadily to his collarbone and down to his chest, her hands sliding down to his middle.

The slightest bit of fluff along his stomach—a soft cushion to the lean muscle beneath.

She felt him twitch underneath her, and grinned against his chest. She bit down gently in the center of his sternum, and let the tips of her fingers run against the very edge of his pants—slowly searching for the clasp that would begin the true fun.

Peter hummed, the noise vibrating low in his chest and tickling her nose as she traced a finger along the rim of cloth, finally stopping at the brass button keeping his pants together. She tugged at it experimentally, and it seemed he was just as eager to get the show on the road as she was. She felt his hands slide up to clutch at her hips, but all the more felt his gaze as he watched her, waiting.

She took a deep breath, and undid the button. Eyes shutting in anticipation as she took either side of his pants (and hooking her thumbs into his boxers as well) and tugging.

Peter sighed above her, whether in releif of alleviating pressure or at the stimulation she didn't know, she didn't really care to know.

Oh Ishtar above, this was happening. This was really happening. Her heart was thrumming so hard in her chest she could feel it in her fingers—still gripping at the fuzzy corduroy of Peter's pants. She could do this. She's done the research, she's done the practice runs catfishing creeps online, she could do this.

Her lips pinched together when she'd psyched herself up enough to open her eyes. Peter was half hard beneath her, She had to act soon or he might think something was wrong, what would be best done before he had to prepare her? Probably get him all the way hard, but what would be the best way to do that? Her hand? Her _mouth?_

“Anita?”

She'd never done something like this with her mouth before. All the text said that people can gag on someone's dick, but if she gagged her body might try to puke, she was already pretty nervous so it might be more sensitive than normal.

“Anita, are you feeling alright?”

So should she be safe and go with her hand? Would that be boring for him? Her hands were calloused as all heck, and that might have worked in her favor with the foreplay but would it be painful in such a sensitive place?

"Anita!" she jumped at the noise, a sudden jolt through her veins as his voice brought her back to the present. "If you're not okay with this I can take over.. or we can stop." There wasn't any sort of strange tone in his voice but all the same Anita felt a wierd kind of dissappointment at the idea....

"No... no I'm fine." She went for a small crooked smile and gently squeezed Peter's thigh, before slowly decending, wrapping her pale pink lips along his long shaft. It tasted... different, than she'd expected it to. She'd heard stories, from both friends and from her fellow outsiders, and even from her research, that there was a certain flavor, to a man's... well to a man's dick. Some sort of bitter mix of skin, sweat and precum, or whatever it was those stories were describing. Whatever it was she'd always silently dreaded it.

But this wasn't... too bad. Well, it wasn't good, but she more than appreciated the shocked choke of air that came from Peter's mouth, a strange gasp that trembled at the edges and the vibrations that reached her down along his cock.  
She hummed, a mix of curiosity and pleasure in her voice before she descended on him further, he strangled out a breath and she had to fight off a pleased chuckle. Now, he wasn't fully hard yet, she knew that much, his shaft was certainly twitching in interest, but she hadn't gotten him all the way there yet, and before things could get really started she had to focus.

She sucked gently, passing her tongue along the head of his cock, and from the corner of her eye she saw him curl his hands into the blankets beneath them.

"Oh god..." He hissed between his teeth, and Anita felt the triumph surge through her, there was an inherent sort of power in that, wasn't there? She pulled her mouth away, gently stroking his shaft with her hand instead, just to get a good look at him.

Peter had thrown his head back for the most part, sprawled along the bed and trying his best not to be too loud. Rabbits, she supposed. But at the removal of her mouth his head curled back against his chest, eyes squeezed shut, and face blotchy and scarlet.

Absolutely beautiful...

"Anita..." he groaned out, and Anita hummed, continuing to stroke him, She wasn't a sadistic woman, but there was something... oddly entracing, about how he peeked at her now, under his lashes, beseechingly but trying his best all the same.

“Yes?” she smiled and gently began to tease the head of his cock. She raised a brow when he started to prop himself up on his elbows. “Use your words Peter.” She was just about to give in and go back to putting her mouth on him when he reached forward and gently cupped her cheek.

It took him a few breaths before he spoke, but when he did his voice was free from any tremors “Let me pleasure you my love” He breathed, voice low and rough, and to be completely honest Anita's brain jumped tracks a couple of times.

“I uh... I said I was fine.” She responded intelligently. Maybe he meant that he wanted to move on to the main event? She'd always wondered how it felt to have someone's fingers in her so it wasn't like she was against it, she just didn't think that would come until later.

Then again Peter wasn't really the most patient person.

“I know, and I belive you.” he dragged his thumb across her lips. “But I'm such a selfish Rabbit, I want to feel you.”and really, what could she say to that?

She nodded and pulled herself up until she was back to being eye level with him. He smiled and lightly kissed her cheek, his erection was pressed between them and from the way he shuddered beneath her he could feel every movement.

She took then to reach over and grab the lubricant, opening the little jar she was assaulted with the smell of coconut, the cloying overwhelming smell taking her aback in surprise.

“Coconut oil.” She stated simply. Old timey coconut oil too, granted she'd never had any cocnut oil that smelled so much back home.

“I've heard it's very good for skin, and it's slick to the touch.” she hummed absentmindedly at Peter's responce, rubbing some of the solid oil inside until it began to liquify under her touch.

“Yeah but it still feels pretty weird to touch, I can prepare myself so you don't have to deal with it.” She had sensory issues with this kinda stuff sure, but she knew something that felt even kinda gross to her would be an instant mood killer for him.

“I'm sure its not that bad.” He reached for the jar, but Anita pulled it away from him.

“Please, _I_ get a little grossed out by it, it'd be sensory hell for you.” She inevitably just poked her fingers harshly into the surface of the oil, pulling out a clump of the pseudo liquid and rubbing it into her fingers.

It felt a little gross while it began to melt, but it started to get better as the oil started to become just that. Soon enough her three center fingers were shining against the moonlight and were ready.

It took a little bit of adjusting, but after sitting upright and straightening her back she was finally in the proper position to prepare herself.

She put a hand behind herself, resting on Peter's knee to steady herself, and took a deep breath. Her eyes were shut because if she opened them she might chicken out, andd slowly slid her middle finger into herself. She was already a bit slick with discharge, but the coconut oil definitely helped. Frankly she didn't feel much of anything, she could feel her finger moving around but it wasn't really much more than pressure. Nothing uncomfortable, nothing great. All the same she lightly began to rub at her clit with her thumb in an attempt to try and make things more pleasurable.

Thankfully that did work and small shocks off pleasure began to buzz up and down her spine as she moved her finger inside herself. Eventually she ended up knuckle deep and tried to curl her finger around inside herself, searching in vain for whatever nerve ending there was that was supposed to make this feel great. No dice.

She huffed and shook her head to ensure her hair wouldn't fall in her face, sliding her middle finger out and preparing for her ring finger to join it when she tentatively cracked an eye open. Gaze darting to the dark horizon, maybe in just a bit of embarrassment, she kept her eyes on the twinkling stars as she inserted her ring finger.

Oh... oh now there's the supposed stretch. She could feel spikes of pain begin to join the party as she started to work her ring finger into herself. She leaned a little heavier onto her hand, immediately starting to curl her fingers to try and find that supposed promisced land. She wasn't done here, she didn't want to call it quits just for a little unfamiliar pain.

And then finally, as she turned her hand just a bit, something happened.

She yelped in surprise as a quick burst of pleasure shot through her, She shuddered and pressed the very tips of her fingers onto the same spot, dragging a long moan from her throat as the feeling started to pulse through her body. She spread her fingers, trying to stretch herself a little more for the insertion of her third finger, and though she felt the burn of pain she would make sure to brush the same location of her G spot, the pleasure numbing the sting of pain.

By the time she was sliding her fingers out for her pointer finger to join in she was near addicted to the feeling, immediately re-finding her own G spot and pressing with even more force when she did so.

She heard Peter breathing heavily beneath her, felt his leg twitch under her hand, and carefully she slid her eyes down from the starry sky to see him.

His eyes were wide, darting from her hand to her face, he couldn't have looked more stunned than if she'd slapped him in the face.

She huffed, pressing herself even more onto her fingers, trying to go even deeper, this time not tearing her eyes away from him. He held his breath in a surprised gasp for a moment before glancing back up at her. He were watching her like she was a meteor shower, like something beautiful and indescribable.

She smiled down at him and he grinned back up at her.

“I love you.” He said, voice no higher than a whisper.

“I love you too.” She responded, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

Maybe she was rushing things, but she was suddenly overcome with a need to have this happen immediately. She gently slid her fingers out of herself, feeling oddly empty at the loss, before reaching over to take the lamb skin condom from it's little pouch. She'd seen a bunch of diagrams and how-tos about the application of these things. It was simple it was just...

He gently took it from her and slid it on himself.

“Calm down” he said gently “You're getting too far into your thoughts again.” Cafrefully he took the jar of cocnut oil from its spot and pressed two of his fingers into the goey substance, and, much like what she thought, a shudder immediately crawled up his spine. “Though I do concur this feels disgusting.” he rubbed the oil between his fingers as quickly as he could to get it to melt properly, and began to run his hand up and down himself, Anita watched, transfixed, as he heaved a great sign of relief at the alleviation of pressure, head throwing back against the pillows.

It almost felt like an eon, watching him touch himself like this, stopping only to pry a bit more oil from its jar; knowing he was doing it for her, so that they could make eachother feel so good together. She ran her hands up and down his stomach and chest, feeling his breaths hitch a bit beneath her.

“Okay...” he finally said, eyes cracking back open to look at her. “I think that's enough, are you ready?” She nodded and carefully moved herself over him.

It took a minute, to line herself up just right, her hands holding onto his hips and his hands on her forearms, but when she slid him into her the moment of struggle was all but forgotten. The stretch burned a bit, maybe she'd rushed her own prep process and wasn't quite as stretched as she'd hoped to be. She grunted a bit, trying to angle herself to find that place she'd found with her fingers, keeping a vice grip on Peter's hips.

Peter's eyes were squeezed shut, one hand clenching her forearm tighter, the other reaching up to cover his mouth. Little noises were coming out with every breath, Something that wanted to be moaning but was being stifled.

She slid herself further down onto his cock, every so often adjusting angles, but her focus was on hie response. He hummed, almost desparately, his teeth poking their way out to bite down on his own hand.

“Come on.” She said quietly, sat almost perfectly on him now. She leaned over just a bit, feeling the change in angle get touch a bit closer to where she wanted it. She gently took his hand and moved it away from his mouth. “I want to hear you.”

She ground their hips together, the pressure so close to where she wanted it, but just not there, the burn at the stretching slowly starting to go from painful to uncomfortable, and watching Peter's now free hand clutch desparately at the sheets.

Anita smiled to herself when he groaned out her name, all furrowed brows and red skin. And when she began to move he arched up to meet her.

Her breath was growing a touch short, her shoulders felt tense, the pain was still there, but it was weakening, she was almost at just the right angle, as she leaned forward just a touch harder, pressing their bodies together, it hit.

She let out a low moan and she felt his hands go from her forearms to wrap around her. In response she moved her own arms to clutch at his shoulders. She felt him buck up into her as she grinded down onto him, it didn't happen as much as she'd hoped, but every so often she'd feel his cock press up against her G spot and sparks would fly behind her eyes. Her breaths should be heavier, but they just weren't, they were getting shallower and shallower, she was starting to feel light headed, but that was probably just something like how mounting orgasms worked. She leaned up to mouth slightly at his neck, a small dark spot that must have been a hickey caught her eye and she spent some time in that aerea in particular, every so often moaning into Peter's skin when they both moved just right.

She could feel every heavy breath he took, every stutter in his hips, every little twitch of his fingers as they dug into her back. For a moment she'd wished he had a heart so she could hear it begin to race, but the steady ticking when she pressed her ear to his collarbone wasn't unwelcome.

For a bit, as they moved with eachother, drawing moans and gasps from eachother, it was something close to perfect. There were no civil wars, roles and cards, no such thing as demons that sleep in trees, It was good.

Until it wasn't.

She wasn't sure what happened, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever really know, but her shallow breathing stopped. She'd put a hand on his chest and rose up a bit to pause their movements, to try and catch her breath, but even with her mouth open and their motions stopped her breathing wouldn't return to her. Her shoulders were cramping, so were her calves.

And suddenly the pain was back.

Whether out of surprise or mounting panic at her inability to fill her lungs she pulled herself off of Peter and reflexively scrambled to the far side of the bed, leaning against the backboard and head raised high, supposedly the position that clears up the air way. High squeaks filled the air as she tried to force air into her lungs.

Peter might have tried to help, but when she saw him draw near the ringing in her ears had long since drowned out the rest of the room and she'd swiped at him.

Was this supposed to be an Asthma attack? She hadn't had an attack since she was a child! She'd thought after the demon and how many times she'd ran through the forest she hadn't needed it anymore.

But she couldn't breathe.

She was starting to see spots, her body was aching, her vagina was on fire, and she couldn't _breathe_.

Her vision was starting to go dark and she might have been about to pass out. She felt some sort of warm thing press against her side, she could distantly hear someone shouting, and she could hear a comforting, steady ticking in her ear over the din.

She thought idly about how if she didn't die from an asthma attack in the middle of sex she might die from embarrassment about nearly dying from an asthma attack in the middle of sex.

* * *

When she came to it was to the smell of cigarette smoke, and maybe just a bit of weed. There were soft sheets around her and they were warm to the touch. She could hear light snoring that wasn't her, and when she squinted open her eyes the room was lit up by a late afternoon sun. Knowing where she was who knew how much time she'd been out.

Anita didn't move for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling of her room in the castle and smelling the smoke.

She'd never cared to look too deeply into how certain disabilities were treated when they were in their treatable infancy, but she'd picked up a few things in her orders at the pharmacy, She wasn't sure when it started and ended in her world, but here a few dried leaves could be rolled up into cigarettes to work as makeshift antihistamines.

Belladonna, Strammonium, and Atropine, and apparently a bit of cannabis. Someone had gotten hold of Asthma cigarettes and let the room fill up with smoke.

When she finally started to gather the energy to move a little she noted that she was naked. Suddenly the reason as to why the room was full of Asthma cigarette smoke came back to her. She moved her arm just enough so that it could plant itself on her forehead dramatically.

She'd had an asthma attack.

In the middle of sex.

Her first time with Peter White completely ruined by her bitch-ass lungs. She let out a low groan, her lungs filling up perfectly, too little too late.

“Fuck you too genetics.” she croaked, her voice craggy and gross.

She heard more than saw someone wake up with a jolt, and before she knew it a very concerned Peter White was leaned over her. His long snowy hair was a mess in the warm afternoon glow and his glasses were askew.

More notably he was surprisingly under dressed, just slacks and his pink undershirt (untucked and halfway unbuttoned at that!) he wasn't even wearing his gloves. She felt his smooth fingertips as he stroked her cheek.

“Anita, how are you feeling?” he bit his lip and she felt the embarrassment of a thousand cringe worthy moments begin to claw up her spine, flushing her cheeks and making her dart her eyes away.

“Mortified but otherwise unharmed.” She answered. She heard him breathe a sigh of releif over her and while she normally would be happy about his obvious worry she just felt bad.

They were both enjoying themselves and she couldn't even complete what she started without her shit body getting in the way.

“I'm glad, you terrified me!” he gently grabbed her chin and turned her head to meet his eye. “The way you just shrunk away, you looked like you were in so much pain.” Then his eyes darted away for a moment before looking at her again.

“We've all known your kind aren't replaceable, but that... really scared me.” his hand shook for a moment and Anita reached up to place her hand atop of his.

“I'm sorry, I thought I'd outgrown it, I haven't had an attack since I was twelve.” She glanced away again, this time to the edge of her bed. And there she caught sight of six or seven cigarettes all lit but very close to the ends of their tales, about a dozen more put out in the center of the ash tray. “The Asthma cigarettes were clever.” She idly noted, most likely the result of a quick on her feet maid. “But all the same, sorry for my shitty lungs wrecking everything.”

He shook his head and smiled down at her. It might just have been the light catching off his glasses but his eyes looked a touch brighter than normal. “There's no need to apologize my love, I'm glad enough that fate isn't taking you away from here just yet.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead and Anita hummed, cheeks turning just a bit red, but lungs filling up just as they should, and a small grin on her face.

“So how long do you have until Patricia starts sending maids to come retrieve you?” She asked idly, watching as his grin turned into a pout as his mind was brought to work and his duties.

“Perhaps an hour or two. I believe my assistant was willing to allow us some leeway granted her fondness of you.” He smiled again then before gently booping her nose. “But who _wouldn't_ be fond of you?”

“You three months ago.” She said flatly, the wry grin on her face hopefully showing the teasing remark for what it was.

Peter spluttered and she took his momentary distraction to scoot a bit further into the center of the bed.

“Come on, you've got an hour or two, my lungs might not be good enough for take 2 just yet, but cuddling sure as hell isn't out of the question.”

Peter's face went just a bit red, but now his grin matched hers and he pulled up the covers, neatly sliding into the space she'd just vacated.

* * *

When the Prime Minister had first discovered he'd fallen in love with Miss Alice Liddel, long before she'd even come to the land, the maids had often overheard his first stumbling attempts at poetry. The Prime Minister had always been rather eloquent, but prose and verse were strangers to him at the time. One or two maids with scars on their shoulders had even insisted that he'd demanded them to listen to his hastily written couplets and give feedback. They were, of course, subpar in the beginning, but they were able to avoid getting executed for speaking the truth by offering to assist.

Peter at that point had been so infatuated and so eager to be able to sway Alice with his words alone he'd allowed the offered help.

His personal maid Marianne specifically remembered those first awful sonnets, no girl would want her lips to be compared to spilled blood, and he was lucky the Queen never found the one that talked about how he was constantly surrounded by plain and boring women and how different and wonderful Alice had been.

She'd foolishly assumed, through whispers to her fellow maids in chapped lips wrapped around belladonna cigarettes, that the prose lessons would end when Alice had finally joined them, and then she'd hoped it would end when she allowed the Prime Minister to court her. But the lessons went on in both of those instances. He insisted that he could always be better with a viscous passion she knew his assistant would have loved him to take to his paperwork.

He'd made a lot of progress, learning to equate Alice's lovely form with that of flowers instead of viscera. Rose pink cheeks framing Cornflower blue eyes, while a touch cliche, was far better than what he used to come up with.

And then they'd broken up, and after a big enough bloodbath to calm the Prime Minister's nerves and balm his broken clock, Marianne had noticed a new poem scrawled into a scrap of paper dotted with card blood. He'd returned to his old comparisons, as though he'd been convincing himself of the passion he'd once had. That letting her go was worth it.

The poetry stopped for a long while then.

Marianne was honestly a bit relieved and quietly hoped to never be bugged about sonnets ever again. And in a way she did get her wish.

Time, no matter what, will always chug on, and no matter how all encompassing his love for Alice was, the Prime Minister had healed. He was out and about again, trying to see what else he could do with his life now that Alice was only in it as a friend.

But he got his paperwork in on time, and rarely messed his room up in bouts of frustration, so Marianne couldn't complain.

And then... something strange happened.

When he demanded that she saw to tidying up his room, he was distracted, and she heard him mumbling to himself about 'Presumptuous Outsider's and how unladylike said Outsider was. Now, Marianne had known that with the strange, almost fantastical, influx of Outsiders, that there were bound to be quite a few that would bump heads with Minister White. But the fact that he was actually lingering over whatever experience he'd had with this Outsider while any other situation would be all but forgotten with a few bullets in a soldier's head...

It was noticeable.

But then something even stranger happened. Minister White was out and about again, and while he often returned as annoyed as he always was there was... something different in his step. Something lighter. There were scrawlings in his notes that looked like counterarguments for an ongoing debate.

Weeks passed with that new norm, and then he'd brought an Outsider back to the castle. She was strange... stranger than other Outsiders at least. She wore a kind of trousers Marianne had never seen, a grey blue in color, but nothing that looked like real fabric, a simple grey blouse, and an overcoat with a cloak's hood.

Of course, Marianne didn't get a very good look at her, she was rather enraptured in her discussion with The Prime Minister. She didn't hear much of their discussion, busy as she was, but she'd heard Minister White laugh.

He'd only ever laughed in Alice's presence.

It was only a day or two after that when the poetry came back. But this time Marianne was not asked for feedback, Minister White seemed content with his prose.

The newest verses on his desk comprised of silver eyes and freckles dotted over sunkissed skin. An iron will that raced through 'her' veins, laughter laced with sadness, and a crooked humorless smile.

Marianne had first thought that her boss was perhaps ill; but he continued, through his poetry, to speak of the scent of dried flowers and stories of heroes, the alluring danger and strength of a woman carved from horrors beyond comprehension. A woman strong enough to lift a chainsaw far too large for her over her head, but gentle enough for the Pup to have claimed for her own.

The results were clear, the Prime Minister had fallen in love with a new woman. 'Anita Bishop' as the carefully written name within a heart indicated.

Somewhat vicariously, Marianne was happy.


End file.
